


Chocolate Soufflé

by colisahotnorthernmess



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Dessert & Sweets, Eating, Ficlet, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, M/M, Romance, being fed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-04-07 10:31:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19083232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colisahotnorthernmess/pseuds/colisahotnorthernmess
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley share a complimentary chocolate dessert at the Ritz. When Aziraphale realises why it's been presented to them in a heart-shaped dish, they soon end up sharing more than just the pudding. A fluffy ficlet.





	Chocolate Soufflé

"It is a chocolate soufflé," the waitress told them, placing a small plate on the table, with a gentle clunk.

"Oh... we didn't--" Aziraphale held up his hand to protest.

"--It is complimentary. It is a present for our diners today," she explained in her vaguely foreign, though refined, possibly French accent. Before either of the men could say anything, she wished them bon appetit, nodded and left the table. She maintained that same level of cheeriness, through gritted teeth, as she briskly walked to the far end of the restaurant and into the bustling kitchen, the pass still awash with lunch orders. She was probably counting down the very _minutes_ until her shift would end.

"Complimentary," Aziraphale grinned, exuberantly. It came as no surprise that the Ritz treated their regular customers _very_ well. The angel hadn't even noticed the fact that the dessert had been presented to them in a heart-shaped dish, or, if he _had_ , he'd chosen not to discuss it with Crowley. However, his smile did begin to downturn ever so slightly. "One spoon?" he questioned, meekly, his smile fading further as the one and only spoon was quickly snatched away by Crowley.

"For _me_ \- of course," came the typical selfish Crowley 'demon' talk Aziraphale had come to expect from him. Oh, as if he _would_ \- _really_. Surely his friend of many thousand years knew him better than that by now, and would know when he was _joking_. Crowley held the spoon up to he light, where it glinted. He dipped the cutlery into the wobbling, gelatinous mess and offered it up to Aziraphale's mouth. And, though the angel was initially wary, he soon leaned forward and licked the chocolaty spoon clean.

"Delightful," he enthused. All the more delightful, dare he admit it to himself, for being fed to him by Crowley's fair... no, fair wasn't the right word... -  _evil_ hand. No - he would not allow his mind to _go_ there. Absolutely _not_.

Between mouthfuls - one for himself, one for Crowley, one for himself - from the same spoon, Aziraphale surveyed the room to see many _other_ couples enjoying romantic dinners and doing the same with _their_ desserts, but none of the _families_ or people dining on their _own_ had been gifted the soufflés. It suddenly dawned on Aziraphale. "You know," he whispered, still looking away, "I think the waitress thinks we're--" He stopped himself when he felt a hand press against his cheek.

Crowley was staring at him now. Despite him wearing his dark glasses, and with Aziraphale not being able to see his pupils, he _knew_ that he was gazing longingly into his eyes as he caressed his face, a thumb gliding over flushed flesh. "I... I just remembered," Aziraphale stammered, thrusting out his chair and rising from the table, forcing Crowley to retract his hand, "The thing. Yes, the thing I have to do. The thingy thing." They'd already settled their bill, so he didn't have to worry about _that_. Thank _goodness_ , because he already had quite _enough_ to worry about. His heart was in a panic. He turned to leave, but Crowley grabbed his hand in a pleading fashion.

" _Ohh_... Don't _go_ , Angel," he implored, hurriedly scrambling out of his seat. Aziraphale glanced back at him, in uncertainty. "If we leave the table, they'll take the soufflé away," Crowley searched for a excuse, found the _worst_ one possible, and then _used_ it. He thought that the only thing capable of tempting Aziraphale back to the table was the promise of sweet treats - but, in truth, the one thing which continued to tempt Aziraphale time after time was _Crowley_. Sweet treats, _indeed_.

When the blonde-haired man finally succumbed to his request, Crowley started to realise this. Aziraphale cleared his throat, nervously, blathering on as his friend approached him, "Well... It would be a terrible shame to see it go to waste. It is a _beautiful_ soufflé." They were so physically close now, and Crowley's hand was still wrapped around his.

"Tastes even better from a demon's lips," Crowley raised his eyebrows from above his spectacles. He pushed forward and kissed Aziraphale, passionately; he knew he _shouldn't_ have, but their noses were practically touching and they were more than halfway there already. 

And, for Aziraphale, somehow the chocolate now tasted all the more rich, deeper and _darker_ than before - from Crowley's lips, rather than the cold, lifeless metal spoon. He gasped a little as they parted. "Sinfully delicious, one could say," he stated, slightly breathless, shyly running a tongue across his lip - devouring the sweetness and the bitterness that was _Crowley_ in one slow, long sweep.


End file.
